"I don't think it's the same thing, Master Lirriper," Geoffrey
said puzzled. "In one case the power that makes one go comes from
the inside, and so one can go in any direction one likes; in the
other it comes from outside, and you would think the ship would
have to go any way the wind pushes her. If you stand up and I give
you a push, I push you straight away from me. You don't go sideways
or come forward in the direction of my shoulder, which is what the
ship does."

John Lirriper took off his cap and scratched his head.

"I suppose it is as you say, Master Geoffrey, though I never thought
of it before. There is some reason, no doubt, why the craft moves
up against the wind so long as the sails are full, instead of drifting
away to leeward; though I never heard tell of it, and never heard
anyone ask before. I dare say a learned man could tell why it is;
and if you ask your good father when you go back I would wager he
can explain it. It always seems to me as if a boat have got some
sort of sense, just like a human being or a horse, and when she
knows which way you wants her to go she goes. That's how it seems
to me -- ain't it, Joe?"

"Something like that, uncle. Every one knows that a boat's got her
humours, and sometimes she sails better than she does others; and
each boat's got her own fancies. Some does their best when they are
beating, and some are lively in a heavy sea, and seem as if they
enjoy it; and others get sulky, and don't seem to take the trouble
to lift their bows up when a wave meets them; and they groans and
complains if the wind is too hard for them, just like a human being.